


Short and (Not) Sweet

by Taylande



Series: Journal of the Elf [1]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Abuse in general, Child Abuse, Cruelty, Drunk Elves, Drunkenness, Dwarf, Good goddess, Human, I'm Bad At Tagging, Kaldorei - Freeform, Other, Past Child Abuse, This mother fucker needs a slow and painful death, Very Minor Characters, uh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 02:29:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4330380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taylande/pseuds/Taylande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two humans and a dwarf walk into a bar. And it isn't the beginning of a joke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Darkest Hour

Mage Quarter, Stormwind City. The Pandaren Landfall had just ended, and three people were headed to the Recluse for adventuring tips. They wanted to become famous heroes like Khadgar, Jaina Proudmoore, and Anduin Lothar.

The trio consisted of human twins and a dwarf. The twins were named Derrick and Ashley, the dwarf named Thrain. They bickered about who did what and caused small scenes. Now, they remained quiet as they entered the Blue Recluse.

Seeing a kaldorei at a table, the trio walked up and gave her a nod, taking seats around her. Empty mugs of ale were littered around her and one she clenched in her hand. The trio looked between themselves, wondering who would speak.

"'Scuse me, Milady Elf," started Ashley, "But, we was wonderin' if ya'd tell us about adven'trin'." The kaldorei looked up, studying them all. The look about her was one of someone who'd failed, who'd given up.  
"What the fel are you, a Gilnean? Hmm, never mind it. Just be quiet, and listen. This is my darkest hour, and a reason you shouldn't go chasing your dreams and delusions of gran. . . granduer," she said. Looking between the trio, she nodded, so she was understood.

"Now, Silithus," she began. . .

The Opening of Ahn'Qiraj. Qiraji, the Horde, our enemies. But, not my enemies. I was here tracking down my brother. From the questions I asked and the people I'd contacted, I tracked him to somewhere out here.

Finally, I'd be able to make our family whole. It was broken and shattered to almost nothing. Father was in somewhere now, my sister in Moonglade because Elune knows why. But now, I just had to find my brother.

After this, I'd be able to find my purpose in this cruel and unforgiving world. I could help Father recover from Mother's death. I'd be able to heal Sister's wounds afted, and aid Brother when he needed it most. Then, I'd be able to fulfill my death wish and pass into Elune's domain.

"Sister," a voice said. I whipped my head around and saw my brother, in the flesh. He had a sword at his side, and I saw it was not a simple blade. It was Father's sword, with the amethysts in the hilt and an emerald on the butt.He was the spitting image of Father, with the same ambition burning in his amber eyes. Same long, purple ponytail and trimmed, kempt beard just a shade darker. And, he was in Father's old armor, too. Had he not been in it, he still would have looked like Father.

Father's armor looked great on him. It was a deep purple, with some black on it. It had a gold trim near and on it's edges, which were only slightly frayed, but cared for, nonetheless. The armor even had the cloak to complete. The cloak was a solid black, colored like night without the Mother Moon's shining light. The only thing that broke the seemingly endless night was a crescent moon, up near the top.

"Good to see you, Alor'el," he said. I could only stare in awe, unsure of what to say. My mouth hung ajar, and he chuckled at my awkwardness. Then, he steppes forward, no doubt to stop my mindless gawking.

"J-Jaron," I finally managed. He chuckled again, sending a shiver down my spine. He even sounded like Father. It brought back memories of the years I spent under his tutelage, all the endless training I would do.

He sighed, and said something I thought I'd never hear. "Onto the business at hand, I suppose. I should have been Father's heir, you know." Then, he drew the sword, pointing it at me. "You still have a lot to make up for, Alor'el."

He thrusted the blade at me. I dodged, just barely managing to pull out my staff, Oathbreaker. I was using it to parry and knock away his strikes and blows, so I'd not die.Then, I tried jamming Oathbreaker's butt into his ribcage. Jaron, knowing my fighting style, gripped the butt. He then proceeded to shove it into my face, nearly breaking my nose.

My former mentor taught me how to summon the Flames of Elune to stun and temporarily blind enemies. It would only kill undead and demons, which my brother was neither. So, I dropped my staff and grinned. Then, I muttered the incantation in the ancient tongue of magic. My arms burst into white flames, and Jaron's face was contorted into pure horror. I wasn't dying or screaming in agony. Fire kills, Elune doesn't.

He quickly recovered, much to my dismay, and started slashing wildly. I was rolling around him in the dirt, trying not to die. Eventually, I managed to grasp Father's old blade and melt the end of the sword, which made it useless. Then, Jaron got pissed, not good. He managed to grab me by the collar, lifting me off the ground. Like Father used to. Then, his free hand came into contact. With my face. More than once. It hurt. 

He succeeded in finally breaking my nose and blacking both my eyes. I could still see, but it hurt lots. Then, he dropped me, hoping to leave me to die in this wasteland. He turned around, and I stood up. I jumped on him, tackling his arse to the ground. I pulled out our family dagger, which was hidden on me, and stabbed both arms and shoulders repeatedly. It eased his struggling, but his screams got louder and louder.

My screams blended with his as I picked up a rock the size of my fist, and bashed his face in. The screams were louder, my blood mixed with his, his brains mixed with my blood. His skull and meat were exposed, along with the eye socket and I continued to beat him. Brains were slowly tumbling out of his skull, and laying on the sandy dirt.

Eventually, my screams died down until it was just me crying. His blood was all over me, and after my recovering from the blind rage, I saw right there, that everything I was trained to be went down the drain. I'd become a murderer.

Soon, a druidess from the Cenarion Post found me in my pool of blood and tears. She led me to the post, completely ignoring Jaron's body. My safety, at that moment, was her top priority.

"Wh-what happened to his body?" Thrain asked. The kaldorei woman looked at him, and a tear trickled down her cheek.  
"We left his body for the scavengers. . ." she muttered. Now, a crowd had gathered, having overheard her story. Some mumbled for more, others hesitating, unsure whether they wanted to hear more or not.

Ashley, Derrick, and Thrain looked at each other, then nodded. "Please, tell us of your life. From the very beginning," they begged. A wave of agreement swept through the crowd.

The kaldorei woman sighed, emptying her mug to start up her next tale.


	2. From the Start

The kaldorei woman looked around the tavern, sending the group an icy look which quieted them. Those who wanted to hear more had gathered chairs, crowding the table. Those who didn't wish to hear more of her bloody tale had already departed, back to the safety of their home. "Now, then," the woman began, a smirk tugging at her lips.

Dunno where exactly I was born. Mum and Father never told me a word. Never bothered to ask. But, I was born to a priestess and a scout. The scout once worked for Azshara, but fought against the Burning Legion. Mum was there, too, but I never knew what she did. Somewhere in kaldorei lands, Mum gave birth to me with her cousin, Kyena Stormbow. Kyena hated my Father, so she didn't immediately let him see newborn me. Mum said to let him in.

Luckily, Kyena didn't rip off Father's skin. He said to Mum, after a few seconds of hesitation, "Landrelia, I will raise our child. Your duties as a priestess prevent you from doing so." Mum, realizing this was true, handed me over to him. She said to him, right before he left, "Fanarol, please raise our child well." He nodded and left.

When he brought me home, in Hyjal, his mate, my adoptive mum, noticed immediately. She was furious at him, and the only resemblance to Father I had was my eyes. He'd said I was an orphan, but she knew better. She saw my eyes, knew I was my Father's daughter. Val'riin, my adoptive mum, raised me for the first two years, but was called out on some unknown expedition. She never came home, and Father had recieved word she'd been killed in action. They gave her a burial, so we'd not have to.

From then on, it was just me and my Father for quite some time.

Years had passed, and I was around six or seven years old. Father was teaching me to survive so I'd know what to do. "Get in here, you maggot!" he shouted. I came shuffling out of my room, fearing he'd beat me again. He grasped me by the collar and lifted me into the air like I was a feather. Then, he slammed me into the nearest wall.

My whole body went numb while I looked with fear into his eyes. He was glaring at me intensely, like I did something wrong. I was trying to breathe, but I barely could due to him pushing on my lungs. He did this when he got drunk or angry.

"You piece of filth. You should have been practicing that move and I find you sleeping," he spat. His saliva was all over me as tears streaming from my eyes. 

"But. . . It's too hard and I'm not big enough for it," I managed to rasp. 

He roared and slammed me into the wall again, winding me immediately. He dropped me that time, but gave me a bruise in the process. Everything was kind of hazy when I tried to stand. His boot was on my back now, and I tried to worm away from him. His other foot was inches away from my right hand. Now, I was scared.

I was whimpering, but they became screams of pain as he stomped my hands, and I felt the bones shatter from the force. I knew he'd be able to discipline me from this, saying I caused it, and I'd be stuck sleeping in the cold for a month. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I thought for a moment it had stopped from the fear. Father stepped off me, then squeezed my broken hand. He yanked me off the floor and shoved me closer to the door.

"Outside. You get bandaged soon as that move is mastered. Otherwise, no bandage and no food," he growled into my ear. I was trying to stop my sniffling from the pain as I picked up my training blades and went to master the move. I had to twist, flip, kick, and slice. Twist, flip, kick, and slice. Twist, flip, kick, slice. The training dummy was beaten like crazy as I rehearsed this over and over, each time running through my head faster.  
I could feel Father's eyes on me, bearing into my back as I twisted. Now, my breathing was rapid as I tried to calm down, trying to convince myself it was just my head. But, as much as I tried, I knew he was watching me.

"Stop. You're good for now, you pile of filth," he spat. I nearly dropped the daggers, but it would have ruined my chances at getting food. So, I trudged along behind him, hanging the daggers on their rack, and followed him again. We reached the sitting room, where he pulled the first aid kit and grabbed the bandages out. He jerked my arm forward, and it took all I had to not make a noise. So, I let him yank and pull and twist them onto my broken hand.

He fixed up some fish and added a few Moonberries to the side. Father handed it to me, and so I sat and gobbled up what there was. Immediately after, he sent me back to my room. The sun was almost up, and I realized all night I was practicing because he demanded it.

The few who remained looked at the kaldorei woman with awe. She smirked, taking a swig of ale and waiting for whatever. "I'm interested, Milady Elf," Ashley said, waving her hand to continue.


	3. The Scar

Thrain had nearly left whenever she finished up the last telling. Derrick had convinced him to stay and listen, giving the kaldorei a nod. Ashley had supplied more ale, trying to draw more of the stories out. Downing another mug, the kaldorei looked around the tavern. Her gaze sent chills down their spines as she got prepared for the next telling. 

Father had left me sleeping outside that month. It was in the colder seasons, which made it all worse. At one point, my sister came over for a visit. She was delighted to see me, as always. She had, surprisingly, convinced Brother to come and visit in the next day or so.

"Ahhh, Elariel. And Jaron, too! Glad to finally see you after so long," Father chuckled, now using some mask to cover up his abuse. They asked about how I was, and all that. Father lied, and I heard them ask about me again.

"She insisted I do that. Stubborn child, her," he lied again. Father asked about how long they'd be over, and I hoped they would be here for a day or so. To my luck, they were.

"Father. I'm taking a break so I can spend time with Elari and Jaron," I said. He chuckled, said something about my dedication to learning my craft or so. My siblings got a kick out of it, only making me want to call Father out on it more than ever. My hand was still broken because "a wild sabercat bit me." So, Elari played some games with me, kept me from harm, all that. Jaron tried to roughhouse and wrestle, but I ended up watching them do their workouts mostly. 

Whenever they did push-ups, I saw them stand on eachother to improve strength, they told me. It was interesting, because both of them were nearly 200 pounds, compared to my lean and wiry 80.They said I'd fill out, encouraged me to keep up my good work. Elari said she should be able to visit again soon, though doubted it.

Soon as they left, Father dropped the act. He picked me up again. Then I was slammed against the wall some more. I felt the bruises in some spots, my back still sensitive after the boot.

"Maggot filth!" he spat. "Speak only when spoken too!" I felt something warm run along my face. When it reached my mouth, I realized it was my blood. Father finally stopped the slamming, then threw me against the floor. I saw him going to his room, where I'd been only a few times. There was a small fireplace and a bucket of water, along with a branding iron. I only got beaten with the iron if I'd done something extremely wrong. Now, I could have sworn there was a stone in my stomach.

He came back out with a furious look on his face. I saw the iron was heated to the extreme, so I tried to run. I heard a mumbled "No you don't," and felt myself shoved to the floor. Then, I was screaming as I felt the iron pressed to my shoulderblade. The iron was dagger-shaped, and nearly as long as my back. Then, it was lifted off. And I felt it come down again, on my other shoulderblade. 

Tears were streaming down my face and I heard him emit a low chuckle. I felt hot water on my back, soaking me instantly. This was relief compared to the giant burn marks on my back. And I was lifted again. Slammed against the top of his fireplace after he dragged me to his room. I thought I'd be dead before he finished, but I wasn't. It was painful, and I was bleeding again. Everything hurt, and I was waiting for death or sleep to take me away. Yet, neither came.

Soon, he dropped me onto the floor. I tried to drag myself back outside, but he picked me up and threw me against a tree. The door to our house was closed after I was outside. I knew he wanted me to pick up the blades again and try a new move. So he didn't beat me, I did so. 

Stab, flip, dodge, thrust, shadows. Stab, flip, dodge, thrust, shadows. This ran through my head as I kept failing at using the shadows for cover. I thought he'd come out and beat it into me, but he didn't. Yet fear drove me. 

"And now, the next story comes soon. Very, very soon," the kaldorei woman said. Now, there were only six others who bothered to stay and listen, and Thrain looked horrified. 

"The burns. . . They still there, ent they?" Ashley asked. The kaldorei woman grinned, waist length pine green hair falling into her face. "You'll learn in due time, Fairshield." Ashley looked scared because the woman knew her last name. But, she stayed, ready for the next tale.


	4. Very Nearly

Ashley was looking grim, having heard about the woman getting branded by her own father. Thrain went to throw up due to the father's cruelness. He was appalled that a parent could even do such a thing. Derrick was shaking, and quite obvious it was.

A few people, as like the last telling, had stayed to listen. Possibly because they'd been eavesdropping, or perhaps they were only bored. Some of the people, though, looked a sickly color, as they found her stories hard to stomach. The woman merely grinned, an impish grin, and continued on with the next part.

Father had picked me up again. I could feel the air leaving my body, and I was sure he'd kill me. The branding iron was in his hand, and I was hoping he'd not use it again. I didn't want another dagger-shaped scar on me. "You piece of maggot filth. You've done a great job of living, you piece of shit!" Father spat. I didn't care at this point. I just wanted death. He could do whatever to my body so he'd never have me again. He wasn't a father. He was my captor.

Everything faded now, and I hoped this was death. It felt cold and dark. I thought all the air in my body was gone, and my breath came out as clouds in the cold, dark room. A door opened from nowhere. A figure stood in the light, which hid their face. I squinted, trying to adjust my eyes, and I failed to. The person stood there, just staring.

It was about my age, with hair that fell to it's shoulders. It's clothing looked old and tattered like mine, with holes covering them. The person took a step forward and laughed. It sounded like a boy. A boy my age, and he laughed at me. Screw him. Screw him and his. . . his. . . everything! I hated people who laughed at how I looked.

A scrawny, thin, puny weakling who could barely lift a 50 pound stone. My face was all like a mousey face, and I hadn't been tattooed yet, but my mop of pine colored hair always obscured my vision. And, I think because I can't see is why Father disciplines me so often. 

"So, you're about dead now, you know," the boy said, "But I'm somebody you're related to, a cousin of yours called Delindor, but you can call me whatever. No need to introduce yourself. I already know you." I stared at him with wide eyes. 

Finally, after what felt like years, I recalled my manners and curtsied. . . Kind of. I nearly fell, and that would have hurt. I finally found my voice, too, then said, "It's a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Delindor."

". . ." Nothing. Then he laughed again. "Meeting me, who was weaker than you? A pleasure?! You make me laugh, little Alor'el." I nearly punched him. Only my brother and sister could do that, call me Alor'el.

"Don't wake me back up, please!" I begged. I tried running forward, towards the door, but I only moved in place, while he couls move about and mock me however much I wanted. Delindor let out a loud, dramatic sigh. I looked around, trying to see if he called anything. I couldn't see a thing, and kaldorei were supposed to be great at seeing through the night. 

"You're not ready to be up here, with me just yet. You'll be back here, soon enough, though," he said. I screamed, and saw a door open up, back to the house. 

"Wait, please, NO, NO, PLEASE!" I screamed.

And then I felt the branding iron go perfectly over my still hurting back. He did this three times on each side, and I was screaming in pain. I then felt his boot on me, and he stomped on my relentlessly, and didn't stop for a while. I was jerked up, and felt a bone pop out of place. I was already in too much pain to scream, and then Father lifted me, throwing me against another tree, leaving me back outside.

Running away seemed like a good idea, but I'd need Father's maps to find my way. If I went now, I'd get lost, and if someone found me, they'd bring me right back here. I could try to find my way to the Sisterhood of Elune, but it'd be hard. Then, I heard the door click open again. Father was holding a knife in one hand, bandages in the other. 

He grasped ahold of my leg, and I tried struggling to get out of his grip. His blade went right near my hamstring and he sliced it, just enough to where I'd not be able to move. 

Then, to keep me from bleeding out, he bandaged it, enough to where I'd be used as a pawn in his games again. He walked back to the house. But, before closing the door, he said, "If you don't master the flip techniques before sunrise, you will be in more trouble." The door slammed shut, and I wished I'd run into the woods by now. I wished my Mum was still alive. She'd be able to help me. She would, if she weren't dead. 

Sunrise was upon us, and I still hadn't masterd it. Father grabbed me by the neck, choking me and hoisting me into the air. He had stones beside him, which made me feel more fear. He took the blades, and stabbed my clothing to the tree so I'd be hung onto it. I couldn't be properly hung up, and so my body was sagging onto the ground. The stones, I saw, were sharp and jagged. He had two sacks of these, and then started hurling them.

He'd stop a moment to reload, and he'd start up again and again. This time, he stopped and pulled out some tree bark. Then, it was shoved under my toenails and fingernails. He shoved a cloth into my mouth so I'd not scream. His rock hurling causes cuts, scrapes, and bruises to form on me. I felt like giving up and dying from the pain, but I recalled Mum telling me to never stop trying, to not give up.

After a while, he ran out of rocks and forced me off of my knees and away from the tree. But, not before slamming my head into it repeatedly. I was bleeding again, and he went back into the house to sleep.

Thrain gagged some more, like he had done before he ran to retch up his lunch. Derrick and some others were talking, but it was hard to make out, due to the words being spoken in hushed tones. Ashley sat next to the kaldorei woman, trying to comfort her.

The kaldorei was shaking, since she had to relive and tell her past. Ashley would attempt a hug, but ultimately get shot down. Then, a thud on the tabletop, and it got quiet.

"Now for the next two parts, the last parts of my cruel childhood," she said, grinning now.


	5. Finally

Thrain was busy throwing up, and so much to the point he had to take a breather. Derrick was starting to take in some ale to quit his shaking. Ashley was still sitting beside the kaldorei, now trying to figure out how the woman knew her last name. Creepy, until she saw her own shirt sleeve had her surname embroidered onto it.

The woman's icy gaze swept across the larger crowd, ending all chatter. Some of her waist-length hair fell in her face. Her eyes had shadows under them, and she grinned, giving her the appearance of a madwoman. Then, the story started.

Father had a needle in his hand. He had ink beside him as well. It was time for my markings, he had told me. He knew I wanted markings like a blade, but instead gave me those of my sister's, like a bear's claws. I was slammed onto the floor, and he placed his knees onto my arms, which hurt. Then, he dipped the needle into the ink. He stabbed it into my face, tracing it along. I couldn't cry, I could only scream, scream as he dragged the needle down through my face, across my eyelids.

He kept going, harder when he had to drag it over some of the previous work. It took every part of my being to not scream in pain. He wanted that to exit my lips, so he'd have a reason to beat me. But, this was the beating, right now. He yanked it down, tearing at my face. There was blood streaming down as he did this, forcing me to close my eyes. I'd be blind for days. And that, I thought, was his goal.

He was touching up now, and I tried to not move, and I tried to not do anything. Soon, he'd be done, and off of me. Then, I felt the weight lift, but a blindfold went across my face.

"Leave it on. Go out and master some more techniques," he growled. I made the mistake of not moving right away. I was picked up, taken outside, and slammed against the nearest tree. Finally, after a few minutes, he stopped, threw me on the ground, and proceeded to stomp on my back, like he was aiming to break my spine. And, I waited once more for Delindor, that strange boy.

Delindor never came, and as soon as Father left, I was left crawling around in the dark. I felt eyes on me, but it didn't have the burning feeling of Father's eyes, not one bit. These eyes felt familiar, like I'd been around it all my life. They felt calm, caring, and concerned. There was a person nearby, but I couldn't pinpoint exactly where.

"H-hello? Is anyone out there?" I asked. Father wouldn't hear me, because usually he went straight back to bed. But, not this time. He marched out, then grasped my neck to start wringing it. The air left my body immediately, and everything was getting hazy. I could smell Father, hear him, but not as well.

The eyes were now intense, and for a second they'd always leave my frail form. My guess? Whoever it was hated Father, more than me, and was ready to kill him. I'd gladly join them. Father suddenly dropped me, leaving me lying on the earthy forest floor. He moved near the house, and I heard him grunt, as if pulling something out of wood. A moment of silence passed.

He started laughing. At what, I didn't know. I then heard a snapping noise, like that of a twig. Finally, he chucked the broken thing into the trees, and I heard it clattering along on the roots of trees. Then, Father went back inside. I tried to feel around for my makeshift bed of fallen leaves and a thin thing of cloth. Tonight was cold, I was shivering at this point, blinded, hoping to die.

And then, I heard the faintest trace of footsteps. They were light, and not a stomp, like Father's when he came to punish me. The footfalls stopped, near me, and I tensed up, trying to pretend that I was asleep. Then, I was warmer. This person, whoever it was, had draped a blanket over me. The footfalls picked up once more, and ended at the treeline, only a few yards from my huddled person.

As the months passed, the days got only slightly cooler, and bruises were everywhere on me. The mystery person hadn't shown since that one day, so I was curious as to when they'd show up again, thinking it'd be soon. My sight was back, thank Elune, and I saw Father's beard had been shaved thinner. He'd punish me on a nightly basis, leaving me to do crunches, push ups, sit up, and pull ups. They made me ache every night, and I sensed he did this on purpose.

Tonight, I felt the mystery person's eyes again. Father came out to beat me, and my daggers were clutched to my chest. As he reached down to pull me up, I stabbed a blade into his arm. He roared in surprise, quickly picked me up, and swung me to the nearest tree. It probably broke something, because I didn't feel right.

I quickly stood up, dodging around to get him tired out. He didn't. But, finally, he tripped, allowing me a quick chance. We had stones nearby, and I managed to roll them onto Father, pinning him. He was just returning to his mind, and I raised up my blades. They sunk into his flesh easier than expected.

My blades worked around his eye, carving off the skin and peeling away the meat. His blood stained everything a dark purple, and I was getting satisfaction out of doing so. I reached his skull at some places, and now I worked at his eye. It was being carved out, and his screams were echoing around, it sounded like it and I took them all in. Every last one. I managed to get most of the eye out, and, to make sure he'd never see out of that again, I squished it with my bare foot. Nasty, yes, but it was satisfying.

His screams subsided later, and he went into the house, bleeding everywhere. Soon, he came out wearing a mask. The rocks were now thrown near the treeline, and he wrenched my blades away. He took out the jagged, sharp rocks, the branding iron, our family blade, tree bark, and a rope, which scared me.

Father tied my hand and feet together, jamming the bark under my fingernails and toenails. He picked up the rocks, slamming them into my face, my back, and neck, forming bruises and cuts on me again. I was bleeding, screaming, but went numb for a moment. The family blade tasted my blood as he stabbed me, but he kept me alive, and my legs, arms, and shoulders were stained with my life force. Father took the branding iron, beating me with it relentlessly.

He disappeared for a moment, only to return soon, and the iron was heated up. He pushed it against my back scars, causing my screams to return, and they were louder than before. He pressed the iron into my scars enough times to make my scars clearer than ever. I lost track of how many times he did this at number five. It could have been the pain making me miscount, but it felt like more than my estimated number. 

"And we'll leave off there. I reckon some of you will need a quick break," the kaldorei woman said. Some people stared at her with shock all over their faces, and the kaldorei merely chuckled.

Ashley and Derrick both went up to grab themselves some ale, to dull down their senses. This tale, after all, was brutal, even for an elf. Ashley sat down once more, and Derrick did the same after a moment's hesitation.

"The tale of my childhood ends soon," the kaldorei woman then said.


	6. The Escape

Thrain was sitting, horror-struck, at the last chapter. Ashley sat, looking sullen, next to the kaldorei woman. Derrick was huddled close with others, whispering about whatever, and chugging down gallons of ale.

The kaldorei woman silenced all conversation, all mindless banter with the icy glare they'd become accustomed to. She smirked, some people shaking from the odd chills actually going down their backs, and waited for the last part. 

I felt the eyes that day, right before drifting off into an odd dream. The calm eyes staring out at me from some part in the forest. I was bruised and beaten, ready to die, but the eyes immediately ended those thoughts, giving me hope. Maybe the mystery person would help. But then, in the midst of my thoughts, I fell asleep.

"Have you had the dream yet? A black nightsaber with seven eyes, that watches from the outside?" a new voice hissed. Everything looked like an ink painting, done terribly on purpose. The trees seemed to be leaking down, and a nightsaber sat right in front of the leaking forest. I somehow knew it was cold, and dream me was looking out a window, everything black and grey. I wasn't seeing my body, though. I was actually seeing through my dream form's eyes.

I bolted upright, sweating. The moon had just risen, and my bruises and cuts still ached. But, they ached a little less. The blanket was still over me, and when I lifted it to get up, I didn't groan in pain like usual. Father came out, masked, so his half-face didn't show. He picked me up, slamming me up against the nearest tree. The pain was immediate, and when I looked down, I saw the family blade in his hand. 

He raised it, and I knew he'd carve my face off, like I did his. I struggled enough to where he only managed to slice my forehead. He dropped me, and that was a relief. But, he stomped me more, and blood had seeped into my eye, forcing me to close it. And, it was my left eye. My favorite eye.

He kneeled down, one foot on me, and sliced a hamstring in one leg. He was about to slice the other when I went to kick him. My heel hit his face, and kicked the mask off. Now, he looked like some sort of person who'd risen from their grave. "You piesh of shit child!" he hissed. Due to my face carving, he had a sort of lisp. His hands wreathed around my neck, and he lifted me, strangling me during it.

Then, he dropped me, howling in pain. With my open eye, which was twitching closed slowly from the dirt in my face, I could only make out an arrow in his shoulder. Somehow, I knew it was the mystery person, and they were here to save me. More howling in pain, a battlecry, and it confirmed the mystery person as a mystery woman.

I fell down, hoping to stay out of this fight. So, I listened to what happened. "Sho, never thought you'd come to vishit. After all, your shishter never did, the shtupid whore" I heard Father say.

"And I never thought I'd have to rescue her daughter from an abusive father," the mystery woman said. Her voice was harsh, yet melodic, brining an easing feeling with it. I could tell this mystery woman was a good woman, and I hoped she'd beat Father. Then, I heard the clashing and slashing of blade-on-blade. They were fighting. I was silently cheering for the mystery woman, but I was nearly passed out. 

So, the fight went by in a blur, and I assumed it was over when I heard a "Gach!" and some sort of choking noise.

Turning my head, I took in a gasp of air, and, through the blur, caught sight of a woman's feet moving my way. She said something to me, and I didn't quite catch it. I passed out while she kneeled down, and waited for whatever.

After a while, I woke up. Immediately, my first instinct was to pull myself up. As I did so, I felt a firm hand slow me. Soon as I was in a sitting position, rubbing my eyes.

"Easy there, Princess. Don't want you dying on me, here," she said. It was that same harsh, yet beautiful melody. As soon as I heard it, I started laughing. I laughed hard enough to fall back onto the makeshift bed, but it ceased with an "Ouugh," from my pain. I had to pull myself up again, and saw the woman. Purple hair was sticking out from under what I assumed to be a helm of sorts, and she was clad in some sort of armor. My first thought was, _Well, I'll never look half as good as her._

She was crouched down beside me, a sarcastic smirk on her face. "You sleep like your mother, child," she said. So she knew my mother. She'd have had to known her while she was alive, because Mum was dead now. "You look like her, too," the woman said. My mouth was slightly ajar as I stared at her in awe, unsure of what to say. Finally, I closed my mouth and blinked a couple times.

"Name's Kyena Stormbow, Princess," she introduced. I remembered my manners this time, and found my voice. 

"A pleasure, Milady Stormbow," I said, bowing my head. I introduced myself, then added, "So you knew Val'riin?" She furrowed her brow, confused.

"Princess, I've not a clue as to who that is. And don't call me Milady. What kind of lies has he fed you?" she replied. I wasn't sure how to respond to that, and what she said told me my mother wasn't Val'riin, and was alive.

"I'd like to go to the Temple of Elune, Milady Stormbow. I want to help people," I said. She shot me a quick glare, pulling out a map from a pack nearby. "It'll take a day or two. And I'll be escorting you there, so you know," she replied, "And, call me Kyena." I nodded, then reached up to feel my forehead. She had bandaged it, so I silently thanked Elune. Looking around, I saw I was in the middle of the woods, away from home. Finally, I'd no longer endure Father's endless torment.

"Sure you want to, Princess? You remind me quite a lot about your mother. I heard she had her heart set on it," Kyena told me. I nodded vigorously, and she handed me what looked to be a small rodent she'd hunted for food. Probably some rabbit or squirrel, all I recall is it being tasty.

"Uhh, how long was I out, Kyena?" I asked. She chuckled, then replied, "A day or so. We'll be off soon." I nodded, scarfing down my food. And, like she'd said, we set off soon after that.

Ashley blinked, her eyes wide. Thrain's color had returned and Derrick fought back a grin. The group chuckled nervously, rather surprised at the somewhat happy-sounding ending.

"Now, I gotta run. Damned Military is calling for me. Probably won't be back. Ever. I dunno, just go look me up in the 'Oh, so grand Alliance Military' archives or something," she said, standing from her chair. The small little group had let out a collective groan and sigh of disappointment. 

Looking at them, she grinned under her messy hair. She gave them a clumsy bow and nearly fell down, but righted herself and stated, "Taylande Silverblade, at your service. Oh, did I ever mention the bird? Because there was always a bird watching me. Always."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All OC's belong to me and a fellow WoW player.


End file.
